


we love one more day

by summoner_yuna_of_besaid



Series: Dragon Age Codexes [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish, Death, F/M, Genderfluid Character, Mourning, Multi, Other, Rituals, Trans Male Character, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoner_yuna_of_besaid/pseuds/summoner_yuna_of_besaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thuleka Lavellan decides to return to Haven, to honor the dead in the traditional Dalish fashion.  To her shock and awe, all her friends agree to go with her.  She's not used to being loved and respected; she doesn't know how to handle it, she can barely stand beneath the pressure of it all.  Luckily, Solas is there to catch her when she falls.</p><p>But her little brother, Seolta, isn't sure he approves of this burgeoning romance... not because he's overprotective, but because he knows something Thuleka doesn't, that's making him question what little they know of the elven apostate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we love one more day

**Author's Note:**

> My universe doesn't have an "Inquisition" or an "Inquisitor" - instead, they are called the Congregation, and Lavellan is just the Herald. It's a more peaceful let's help the people, faith driven organization, and less violent overthrow via spies and manipulation
> 
> Thuleka is genderfluid, and uses she/her pronouns. Her brother is a trans man and uses he/him.

Thuleka stood before all her advisors, her teammates, and her friends, and made her request.  “I would like to take some time for myself, before we move on with these decisions and actions.”  She waved to the war table.  “There is…something I need to do.”

“Has something happened?”

She glanced up to Josephine, touched by the concern in her eyes.  “Nothing new.”  She smiled weakly.  “I simply require – time.”  Then, she glancedacross the table to Seolta, her younger brother.  His eyes narrowed, and he nodded.

Cullen caught the exchange, glancing between them with concern.  “What is it?”

Thuleka braced herself, and moved away from where she’d been leaning on the table.  “I plan to return to Haven for a time.”

“Whatever for?”  Leliana’s brow furrowed.

Clearing her throat, Thuleka thought carefully on how to speak diplomatically.  It wasn’t her strength, but she was learning how to do it, slowly.  “I realize that you have all performed your own funeral rites in honor of Haven and those that died there, but I would … I feel I need to honor them myself.  In my own fashion.” 

“The Dalish fashion?”  Cassandra asked eyes wide.  Thuleka turned to her, somewhat nervous, and nodded.

“Yes.”

“I’ll go with you.”  Seolta said suddenly.  “You’ll need help.”

A hand touched Thuleka’s shoulder.  The elf turned, glancing behind her to see Solas.  The sight of him brought a smile to her face.  He gave a soft smile in return.

“If you would permit it, I would like to accompany you.”

“Perhaps, we all should.”  Surprised, Thuleka turned to Cassandra.  The woman flushed slightly.  “That is, should we be welcome.”

“I – of course.”  Throat dry, Thuleka swallowed.  “I didn’t think…”

“You are our Herald.”  Cullen stepped forward.  “But you are not one of us, and we should remember that.  Speaking for myself,” He glancedaround.  “I would like to learn more about you and your beliefs.”

Shock was an understatement.  “I… thank you.”  Tears were burning at her eyes but went unshed.  Thuleka had come to appreciate these peopleand their myriad of experiences, and loved and accepted them for themselves, but had not expected the same.  Humans were un-fond of elves to being with, and saw the Dalish as violent godless savages.  She didn’t think any of the other races would be much more accepting.

Eyes wide, she lifted her gaze.  “You are sure?”

Cullen nodded, then turned to Cassandra.  “Some of us will have to remain here and hold the fort, so to speak.”

“Of course, none of you are required to come.”  The Herald held up her hands.  “Please, feel free to stay.”

“I will remain.”  Leliana spoke softly.  “That should be enough.  A small group will be able to travel to Haven much faster than our whole complement did; you should not be gone long enough to cause trouble.”  Then, she glanced around.  “Does anyone else wish to stay?”

No one said a word.

Grateful, Thuleka fought a choked cry.   “Thank you.”  Fighting the feelings rising in her throat, she turned her back to them.  “We leave in the morning.”  She said quickly, before storming from the room.

She burst into the hallway with a sob, falling against the far wall.  Still, it wasn’t safe enough.  Anyone in the hall could see her… She turned to walkaway, wiping furiously at her eyes.  This wasn’t acceptable.

She thought she heard someone call her name, but it was hard to hear over the pounding of her heart.  Thuleka kept moving, rushed by panic, until she stumbled into the stairwell leading to her room and tripped, catching herself on the stair.

“Thuleka!”

The word finally pierced through the fog; she froze, horrified.  Wiping her eyes again, she stood on shaky legs and turned round, forcing her voiceto sound even.  “Y – Yes, can I help you?”

It was Solas.  The elf was almost running after her, slowly to a halt with his arms extended towards her, brow furrowed in concern.  Part of her wasrelived it was him, for reasons she wasn’t ready to examine, while another was horrified that anyone was seeing her like this.  Forcibly ignore the tremors in her limbs, she spoke.  “Is something wrong?”

“Thuleka,” He came closer, but hesitated just before touching her.  “I should be the one asking that of you.”

“I – “ All the usual lies were at her fingertips.  I’m fine.  I’m okay.  I’ll be alright.  She’d become a master of such things at a young age, when she’dhidden every wound and scar from the little brother who was her whole world.  She couldn’t have let the boy know that his friends and fellow hunters in the clan would pitch rocks at her and call her curses usually reserved for Fen’Harel himself.

But the words caught in her throat.  Oh, Gods, how she wanted to tell him the truth.  How she wanted to fall against him and just weep, to let down the walls barring it all in.  She didn’t know how.  She didn’t know if she could.

“I’m fine,” She told him. The man frowned, and she felt a stab of sudden pain at the thought she’d disappointed him.  Through sheer force of will she hid all the panic and pain behind a brick wall and forced herself to meet his eyes.

He still looked concerned, but was keeping his distance.  “… if you’re sure.”  He sighed, and took a step away.  “If that should change…”  He met her eyes meaningfully.  “you know where to find me.”

She watched him walk away, filled with an overwhelming sense of loss.

 

* * *

 

 

Seolta watched his sister carefully as they set out from Skyhold.

He’d been as keen as a hawk when it came to her since this whole debacle started.  At first, he’d feared the humans were keeping her prisoner,which was why he’d broken into Haven in the first place.  When he’d discovered she remained of her own free will, he’d decided to stay, too. Obviously he wanted to help, but he mostly remained for Thuleka.

Since he was a boy, Thuleka had watched out for him.  He was a pretty independent kid – that came naturally when you spend your childhood taking care of yourself and then run away from home anyway – but she insisted mothering him from the moment they met.  The inverse rarelyhappened; she was not one that took well to be taken care of.

Which was why, at first, Seolta had been overjoyed to see her building close bonds with the people at Haven, especially Solas.  Among the Dalish,her friends had been few.  Those idiots had been too concerned with superstition to give her the time of day.  He’d tried hard to make her feel included among the people, but it was clear that she never quite fit there.

Still, as happy as he was to see his sister fitting in somewhere, he couldn’t help but worry.  His eyes darted to Solas.

“What’s up?”

The man turned to Dorian.  “Oh, nothing.”  Seolta looked ahead again.  They were trudging through the snow, just passing the halfway point toHaven in the mountains.  They’d likely by there by evening.

“You sure?”

Seolta turned to look at the mage again, and grinned before nudging him.  “I’m fine, okay?  Just thinking is all.”

“So,” Vivienne, on his other side, spoke then.  “May I ask what is involved in these rituals your sister aims to perform?”

Quite suddenly, everyone in their vicinity had their ears perked up and was clearly listening.  That was basically the whole party, save for Thuleka,who was far in the lead and had been distant and quiet the whole trip.  Somewhat behind her, but still farther ahead, was Solas.  He’d been her shadow since they started out.  Seolta wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Well,” Seolta shrugged to move his bag strap higher on his shoulder.  “I’ve only seen it once or twice, and back then we were among a lot of elves who knew what they were doing.  Thuleka’s the only one with the training so this’ll be a solo act, I guess.”

“What kind of training?”  Cullen, turning back to look at him, asked.

“It’s… I don’t know how to explain it, exactly.”  Frowning, he rubbed the back of his head.  “For the Dalish, when you’re found to be a mage, you start this special training under the Keeper – that’s our leader, whose always a mage, too.  Mages hold our highest political and spiritual positions,no exception, so the training is meant to prepare them for whichever role they pick, I guess.”

“What did Thuleka pick?”  Varric asked, taking longer strides to catch up to them.

“She was in training to become what we’d call an Arladin, it’s like a priest basically, but only associated with rites having to do with the dead.  Shewould perform funerals, wakes, remembrances, that sort of them.”

“What about spirits?”

He shook his head.  “The Keeper would probably deal with that sort of thing.  Arladins don’t handle what happens after death, or to the spirit – I guess you could say they deal with how the living handle death.  They honor the dead and help the living to grieve and move on.”

“Sounds fucking depressing if you ask me,” Sera griped.  “Why’d she go and pick that?”

Seolta felt his chest tighten.  That was a thought that had always bothered him, too.  “I asked her once.”  He began.  “She told me that she would beof the best use to the clan that way.”

Josephine’s brow furrowed.  “Why is that?”

Frowning deeply, Seolta looked her way.  “’Those who lose loved ones need a way to survive.  Someone or something to blame, to hate.  And theyalready hate me.’”  Seolta’s jaw tightened.  “Her exact words.”

“Damn,” Iron Bull whistled, his gaze turning towards Thuleka far ahead.  “There is something fucked about this clan you came from, kid.”

“Yeah,” The elf grumbled.  “You’re telling me.  But don’t ask me about it,” He said suddenly, as it was obvious the question was on the tip of quite a few tongues.  “Not my place.”  And that was that.

The group fell silent, and slowly Seolta’s thoughts returned to what they’d been before.  His eyes lifted to Solas’s back, in the distance.  His gaze narrowed.

 

* * *

 

 

They camped at the foot of the mountains that night, threw up a few tents and built a fire and fell into a relaxed and quiet routine.  Thuleka remained near the edge of the camp most of the night, her thoughts tumultuous.  Every so often she’d glance behind her at her companions, as if unsure they would really still be there.

Eventually, she turned back to camp, sauntering towards the fire where most of the company was.  A burst of laughter erupted from them as she approached, a reaction to some tale her brother was telling, and the sight of it brought a smile to Thuleka’s face.

“Herald,” Solas spoke, drawing Thuleka’s eyes.  He sat to the side of a log, and gestured to the free space beside him.  “Care to join us?”

Ignoring the tickle of a flush rising to her cheeks, she nodded, and approached him round the circle.  As she took her seat her limbs brushed his,their thighs barely touching when she was seated and yet the gentle touch took all her attention.

“You know, you never did tell us what this ritual is.”  Dorian spoke from the opposite side of the circle, looking at her brother.

“Oh, right,” Seolta cleared his throat, then glanced up.  “Honestly, you’re better prepared to answer that.”

Thuleka met his gaze.  “Of course,” She turned forward, trying her best to ignore the way Solas’s presence demanded her attention.  “Generally,there would be a great deal more involved in this.  Among elves, there would be a larger ceremony, and more roles filled.  If…”  Her throat dried. “If we had the bodies – and they were elves – we might even make a pilgrimage to Var Ballanaris, though often only the Arladin would make thatjourney.”

“Why is that?”  Blackwall spoke gruffly.

“It’s easier for a single elf to go unnoticed across borders and territories than many.”  Solas answered for her.

“But since I am the only elf with any training in the ritual, I will perform it myself, with a little guided assistance from my brother.”

“Yay.”  Seolta said glumly.

“What, do you not want to?”  Surprised, Varric glanced to him.

“Oh, no,” He shook his head.  “It’s not that, I just don’t look forward to seeing my sister naked.”

The whole camp fell silent as one, a tense silence that built quickly into a violent eruption of questions.  Sera’s was undoubtedly the loudest of all.

“Holy shite, is the Herald gonna go bare ass?”

“No, no,” Holding her hands up she gave a sigh of disgust.  “It’s a cleansing ritual, a preparation, nothing more.  The only one who’ll see me is my assistant, who will likely be Seolta.”

“Again,” Her brother complained.  “Yay.”

“You and your shem shame over bodies,” Thuleka rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I don’t wanna see my own boobies, much less my sister’s boobies!”

“Thuleka,” A gentle hand on her shoulder stopped Thuleka’s irritated reply.  Solas’s bright eyes were so close to hers when she turned her head.  “I am trained in the Dalish arts.  I would be honored to be your assistant, should you be comfortable with it.”

The blush came bright and quick and went straight to the tips of her ears.  “I…”  Thuleka’s mouth dropped open.

Seolta gave an immediate cackle of delight.  “What was that about shem shame, sis?”  She glared at him out of the corner of her eye, but mostly ignored him.

“I would be the honored one, Hahren.”  She said finally.  When the others began hooting and hollering, she grabbed a handful of snow and tossed it in the vague direction of Sera and Iron Bull.

Seolta watched Solas speaking to his sister with mixed feelings warring in his heart.

It was obvious that she cared about him deeply, perhaps more deeply than she’d yet realized.  And he definitely felt the same – and it wasn’t that Seolta felt he was a bad man, for all intents and purposes he seemed very kind.  He had no vested political or social interest in Skyhold, and yet he stayed, despite the danger to himself.

Still, Seolta worried.  For one thing, he knew for certain that Thuleka was entering new territory with this.  Nobody back at Clan Lavellan had evermade her eyes shine like that, after all.  She’d never loved like this before.

For another…

 

* * *

 

 

_“Thuleka!”_

_Panic clawing at his throat, Seolta stumbled through the snow.  “Thuleka!”  She had to be here, somewhere, had to be – the thought of her body strewn across the ground back at Haven, bleeding and broken beneath wood and flame – “Thuleka!”_

_“Seolta, Seolta!”  Someone grabbed his shoulders, shook him.  It took a moment for his vision to clear enough for him to see._

_“Solas?  What…?”_

_“Calm yourself.”  The man’s voice somehow managed to penetrate the anxious cacophony in his head.  “We will find her.  I swear to you.”  Hesqueezed Seolta’s shoulders with the words.  “But you are no good to anyone in this state. Return to camp, and wait for us there.”_

_“No, I can’t –“  The words caught on a sob.  “I can’t just wait!  I can’t just sit around while she’s – she could be –“ His hand flew to his mouth._

_“Alright, alright, calm yourself, dalen.”  Solas spoke with kindness yet he seemed irritated somehow; glancing around at the other people spreading out to search for Thuleka, before looking at Seolta.  “Come with me.”_

_They walked for miles through the snow, shouting her name, scouring every crevice and corner.  After an hour of this to no avail, Solas gave a curse._

_“I cannot find her like this!”  He seemed truly angry, in a way Seolta had never seen.  The elf was always so composed, his tone democratic anddiplomatic despite any situation.  Not now; his face was flushed, teeth gritted hard, fists clenched at his side.  Glancing at Seolta, he stormedtowards the other elf and the latter had to fight the strange urge to turn and run for his life._

_Solas took hold of his shoulder.  “You must swear to me that what you see tonight, you will never tell another soul.”_

_Confused, his brow furrowed.  “What do you -?”_

_“I can find your sister, I will bring her back to you.  But you must swear.”_

_“I…”  Too overwhelmed and confused by the emotions of the night, Seolta floundered.  “Alright, I swear.”_

_“Say it, swear you won’t tell a soul!”_

_“I swear it!  Dread wolf take me, I swear!”_

_His eyes narrowed meaningfully.  “He’ll hold you to that.”  Then, Solas backed away a bit.  Seolta watched with wide eyes as the man hunchedforward, staff in hand, as if he were about to take a leap to… where?_

_“Solas, what’s going…”  Even as he spoke, his eyes went wider.  The man was glowing.  Glowing a bright blue, head to toe, and then with a greatburst of light, he transformed._

_Soelta had seen the art before, of course, his sister did it often enough, but this was different.  The animal that appeared before him was huge.  Itwas a great wolf, larger than any natural one he’d ever seen, standing heads above him.  Fur streaked grey, black, and white, it gave off a strangeblue glow, an ethereal mist, that seemed to stem from its eyes.  They shone like stars, and almost hurt to look at._

_Stunned, Seolta approached tentatively.  “Solas?”_

_The wolf glanced his way, then lowered its head and upper body to the ground.  It took a moment to sink in.  “Do you… you want me up there?” The wolf’s ears flickered and it made this huffing noise, like it was making fun of him.  “Shut up!  I’m having a bad night!”_

_It took a moment to get up his courage to even touch the wolf, but he did it.  The thought that his sister was still somewhere out there, possibly indanger, finally gave him the strength to grab at the creature’s fur and haul himself up.  He’d hardly gotten situated before the wolf – before Solas –took off._

_He gave a screech, before regaining his barings and grabbing tight at the fluffy fur of the wolf’s neck.  The creature gave a cheerful bark, reveling in the great speed of its movement, almost like it was taking flight with leaps and bounds.  Every so often it would stop, head and ears perked high,nose sniffing the air, searching for any hint of his sister’s whereabouts.  Panic was still tearing him apart inside, but Seolta watched these movements and tried to keep faith in this strange man, this… beast, who was as determined as he was to save Thuleka._

_Seolta had no sense of the passing of time, but it seemed they found her not long after.  She was sprawled across a snow bank some ways out of Haven.  “Thuleka!”  The woman didn’t move.  The wolf came to a halt and Seolta leapt off, ignoring the sharp spike of pain that ran up his damaged leg as he did so._

_“Thuleka,” Relief flooded him as he gathered her body in his arms.  At the same time, new fears arose – was she alright?  Was she going to live?  Hiseyes darted over her._

_A gruff sound by his ear took him by surprise.  Shocked, wet eyes flew up to the great snout in from of him.  Sharp blue eyes, smarter than any wolf Seolta’d ever seen, seemed to reach out to him.  Calm him.  It’s alright.  It’ll be alright._

_“You – can you save her?”  He sobbed.  The wolf leaned down again.  This time, Seolta didn’t hesitate._

_They raced back to the congregation at full speed, the same way they’d come, but just outside it, the wolf slid to a halt.  Its head jerked, catchingSeolta’s attention.  A little confused, the elf slid off the wolf’s back, holding his sister, and watched the transformation in reverse._

_There stood Solas, as he’ been before, as if nothing had changed.  He hadn’t even broken a sweat.  The man turned to him, his eyes darting overThuleka, before meeting Seolta’s gaze._

_“Take her to camp, quickly.”_

_“What about you?”_

_“I will meet you there.”  Solas began backing away. “Tell no one I was with you.  You found her, alone.  Tell no one.”_

_“I won’t I swear.”  Tears streaming down his face, Seolta fought another sob.  “Thank you.”_

_The man simply nodded, and vanished into the shadows._

 

* * *

 

 

Seolta hadn’t told a soul about that night.  But he hadn’t forgotten it either.  In the aftermath, once the shock and adrenaline had faded away, a lot of questions had risen in his mind and been left unanswered.  It irked him; he wanted to ask, but felt he couldn’t, and he couldn’t speak to a soul about it.  Seolta took his oaths seriously.

He was no mage, but he’d grown up with one, and served as his sister’s pin cushion for her spells often enough.  There were rules, limits to what amage could do.  Sure, they could transform into animals.  Thuleka used to become a bird and fly around when she had the time.  But they couldn’t alter the form they took, it had to be an exact replica of the creature. She couldn’t slap wings on a pig and give it a lion’s head and make that her transformation, it would never work.  It had to be real life.

There was no damn wolf that huge with glowing blue eyes, that was for damn sure.

But if it wasn’t a body transformation, what was it?  And why was it a secret?  Seolta wondered if it might have been some forbidden art, blood magic or something, and as an apostate he was already risking his neck.

Somehow, Seolta didn’t think that was it.  And so long as there was a question, a mystery, to the man, he couldn’t feel completely at ease about him.  Something was up; and Seolta had a very bad feeling that it was going to come back to haunt them all, and if it did, that Thuleka would be hurt worst of all.

 

* * *

 

 

Thuleka knelt, bare as the day she was born, and tried not to think at all.

There were plenty of things fighting for her attention.  For one, the man she’d been flirting with, with the subtlety of a dragon, was currently painting her naked flesh.  She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed, exactly, so much as constantly, painfully aware of that reality.

Then, there was what she’d come to do.  The woman gulped nervously.

“Calm yourself, dalen,”  Solas smiled at her encouragingly, before returning his attention to the mark he was carefully spreading over her shoulder. “Everyone here is a friend.”

“Right,” She whispered to herself.  Friends.  A lot of them, in fact.  That wasn’t something she was used to, either.

She’d seen this ritual performed plenty of times, even taken part in it before, but she’d never played the role of Arladin before.  And she certainly never had to do it alone.  Granted, no one here would really know if she did it wrong, save perhaps Solas.  But she wanted to honor the lost properly, not…

Fail them again.  She couldn’t help but wince, and hoped Solas hadn’t noticed.

The ritual had begun an hour ago; she’d bathed herself, though traditionally the arladin would be assisted by the younger mages in training, she couldn’t quite make herself comfortable with the idea of Solas helping her bathe.  He’d seemed to know that instinctively, and had kept his distance until she approached him.

After the cleansing, she and Solas had retreated to a private tent, where she’d stripped and they’d begun the next step.  The Arladin was to be marked with a kind of temporary vallasin, meant to honor the gods and the dead, to ask for guidance for their souls, and comfort for the living. Each clan had its own method.

“Have you chosen your markings?”  He’d asked.  At the time, she’d thought she’d had.  Clan Lavellan, of course, had been her home all her life, so surely she should use the traditional marks of the clan?

Yet, when he’d asked, the words had frozen in her throat.

The truth was, she wasn’t a part of Clan Lavellan anymore… maybe she hadn’t been for a long time.  She’d always been an outcast there, anunwanted orphan whose family name was seen as a bane upon all Dalish.  Still it had been the only home she’d ever known.

There had been a time during this whole debacle where she kept herself going by thinking, just a little more and you can go home, just finish this and you can go home.  At some point, that had changed.  Haven – and later, Skyhold – had stopped being a temporary stop on a longer journey,and had become… a home.  One she wasn’t so sure she wanted to leave.

Sure, Skyhold was dark and cold, with empty dead stone rather than the life and vibrancy of the woods.  There were so many strange smells and sounds, so many practices she didn’t understand, and the thought that these people saw her as someone holy… it was all so strange.

But the people there liked her.  They admired her. People like Cassandra, and Vivienne, and Dorian, worldly and powerful and good people who could have found friends anywhere if they’d wanted.  Even the townsfolk, the general population of the Congregation*, thought well of her.

Thuleka didn’t think she could give that up.

“Thuleka?”

She’d met Solas’s eyes.  “To be honest, I don’t know.  I’m not… really of any clan anymore.”

They’d held each other’s eyes for a moment.  “If I may…”  He’d gestured with the brush then, and after a moment, Thuleka had nodded.

And so here they were.  Thuleka sitting naked before her… what was he?  Not quite a lover, not quite a friend… letting him make whatever mark she wanted, and she trusted him to have something appropriate in mind.  She supposed it didn’t matter; this was for her, and there were no elders here to judge.

“It is finished.”  The brush clicked against the tray, and Solas sat back, eyes level with hers.  She fought a flush, thanking him in elvish.  “Thuleka, may I ask… what prompted you to do this?”

She stood as he spoke, more than ready to don the ceremonial robes she would wear.  Not that they would do much about her nakedness.  It wasn’t that they were exactly revealing.  But they were sheer, loosely tied, and came with no bodice or undergarments.  The idea being, the dead left the world bodiless, owning nothing; so, the arladin, bidding them farewell, was to be the same in reverence of their loss.  She would basically be naked, save for the thin holy garments.

As she replied, Solas gathered the fabric in his arms and helped her don it.  “It is our way,” She said, even though she knew Solas would disagreewith the ‘our’.  “I wanted to honor the lost in my own fashion.”

“Is that the only reason?”

The first piece of fabric was a long greyish cloth.  There were three of them; two would be draped over either shoulder, hanging over her breasts.She took the end of those and tied them together, so that the two pieces hung in front of her, between her legs.  The third piece went around herneck, and was tied to the opposite end of the first two.  They were entwined around her arms, the ends flowing free behind her.

Then, he approached with a long cloak that hung from her belly button below, and behind her.  These were held on by a thicker length of cloth,which was tied like a belt around her belly, with the other fabrics tucked inside.

Thuleka fought with the question as he dressed her.  There was an answer, a truthful one, she had pushed down deep.  That was the problem withSolas.  She adored his company, but whenever he was with her she found him challenging her, making her question and wonder, digging up whathad been buried.  Forcing her to acknowledge things she’d never realized she’d been hiding from.

Usually, she would try to hide her reactions, to keep him from realizing when he’d hit the truth, but it was almost impossible now.  She could feel his hands trailing over her flesh through the thin veil of cloth.  The cold snow was seeping between her chilled feet, the air biting her flesh.  This was all so vividly real, and brought forth so many feelings she could barely manage them.  His presence at her back was the only warmth in the flimsy tent and it was all she could do to keep from leaning into him.

“I failed them,” She whispered.  “They were my clan, and I failed them.”  For a moment she hesitated, on the verge of holding back, but it came free like a deluge.  “My clan never wanted me.  But these people, they – they chose me.  They wanted me.  Looked to me for leadership and for guidance and I was scared and unsure when I needed to be strong.  They died because of me.”

“No, they did not.”  Solas stepped in front of her.  In his hands, he held a long blue fabric that shimmered like the night sky.  It was lifted onto her head, two thin chains wrapped around her ears to keep it there.  It fell over her hair and down lower, behind her back.

“How can you say that?”  With the walls down, it was hard to keep anything back.  “After everything –“

“You had no reason to become involved at all.”  Solas moved in front of her.  His hands fell on her shoulders and squeezed reassuringly.  “You were a bystander, drawn into a conflict not your own.  When others called out for help, you listened.  When others looked to you for guidance, for reassurance, you gave all of yourself for them.  Do not blame yourself for struggling to carry the burden of so many lives, so many hopes.  It is achallenge few would even accept.”

“I should have saved them.”  Sobs began welling in her throat.  “I should have saved them.”

“Thuleka…”  The way he said her name, so soft and reverent, like a prayer.  It sent heat to her cheeks, even as he cupped one of them with a hand. “Be kind to yourself.  You are a Dalish among Andrastrians,  an elf among humans, and you have chosen to sacrifice so much for them.  That aloneis worthy of admiration.  And they,” He gestured behind him, to where Haven had once stood.  “They knew you had made sacrifices, that you hadsuffered for them.  And they chose, just as much as you did, to make sacrifices for you, because they wanted to follow you.  For some of them, thatjourney ended here.” His hands came together in front of her, clasping hers.  “That is not your fault – it is Corypheus’s, no one else’s.”

Tears pouring down her cheeks, she gave a dry sob.  “Sometimes I wonder – I – I think maybe the G – Gods aren’t locked away, or trapped –maybe…”  She gasped for air.  “Maybe they just left us.  M – maybe they didn’t want us anymore.”

Because everyone she loved left her.  Because no one wanted her.

A hand tipped her head up.  She met a gaze blazing with strength and devotion, that heated her freezing form.  “Thuleka,” Solas murmured, close enough to kiss.  “Your Gods have not abandoned your people, … we will not abandon you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Thuleka’s companions stood gathered on the sidelines, standing in the snow.

Haven’s remains were spread out in the distance before them, a few yards ahead.  Directly in front of them, a circle had been drawn, a shrine of sorts built from the singed wood of the town.  Seolta had been working on it all morning, drawing symbols, arranging candles.  He’d sent various people out to find things as well, herbs and berries and various things they’d need.  That had all been finished before midday, and all that was left,was to wait for Thuleka.

They stood in solemn silence, eyes upon the tent nearby.  After a while, Solas stepped out of it, striding towards them.  He gave a nod upon meeting Seolta’s eyes.  It has begun.

A moment later, the tent flaps parted.  There stood his sister, draped in the thin finery of an arladin, painted head to toe in fallasdin, the marks of mourning.  His eyes went wide at the sight of her, her soul-piercing eyes darkened by the cloak on her head, hair waving in the wind.  It began to snow.

This was his sister, yet looking at her, she appeared to be something out of myth, or legend, an ancient come to life.  She took a measured step,then another, graceful and fluid as she approached the circle he’d drawn.  Thuleka stepped within it without disturbing the runes he’d drawn, aprocess that had been rather more difficult in snow than dirt and earth.

In one hand she held a staff, one of her usual ones though less ornate.  The other was a shorter staff, a ceremonial one for this purpose alone. Along its edges were carved marks similar to those on Thuleka’s body, honors and pledges to Falon’din.

Within the center of the circle, a staff in either hand, Thuleka stood silently in the wind.  Everyone watched with the same awe and reverence Seoltafelt, the tension palpable in the air.  Her gaze danced over them.

“Usually, this would be when I would speak of the honor of the elves and our suffering.”  She began.  “But this wasn’t the suffering of elves alone. Haven was the home of humans, elves, dwarves, every people on Thedas.  Circle mages, and apostates, Followers of the Qun and Tevinters.”

“We don’t all come from the same homeland, but we made a new home together.  We don’t believe in the same Gods, but we believe in each other. To me, that makes us as much a clan as any other.”

“So,” Clearing her throat, Thuleka lifted her gaze to the sky, revealing the tear lines drying on her face.  “I am here to honor the fallen of the Congregation, our siblings, our friends, and bid their Gods lead them safely home to the Beyond.”

The candle flames whipped with the wind, but remained.  Thuleka approached the shrine, blessing the offerings, before placing the ceremonialstaff there.  Hand raised over it, she murmured the words of a spell that were lost on the wind, and the markings on the staff began to glow.

The offering caught fire, a small blaze that kept in the bowl it was in, and quickly died.  Thuleka was chanting now; Seolta could barely hear it over the wind, but it was clearly elvish.

The circle on the ground began to glow as well; the candle flames built and grew, until the area was illuminated by a gentle blue light.  Then,Thuleka stood in the center of the circle again.

The longer staff in hand, she lifted her arms to the sky, and began to pray.  The words washed over them all like water, like waves, and though Seolta could barely hear her for the weather and the distraction of his own thoughts, her tone was a comfort, her sweet voice an opiate to the pain.

A hand took hold of his; Seolta glanced to his left, and through water eyes, saw Vivienne. She smiled at him gently, somberly, her head bowed in a prayer of her own.  Seolta gripped her hand tight, and bowed his head.

After a time, he realized his sister had begun to sing.  He recognized the song.  Years ago, the people had mourned the loss of two of their own:Tamlen and Racain of clan Sabrae.  Tamlen had been killed – so they thought – and Racain, exiled, in the sense that he had left the people forever. Both elves had been dear, dear friends to Seolta and Thuleka – Racain herself, their cousin.  When the news had spread, they had approached the Keeper and requested the clan observe a memorial for them, and she had agreed.  The arladin at that ceremony had sung this very song.

 

> _“Hahren na melana sahlin, emma ir abelas, souver'inan isala hamin, vhenan him, dor'felas, in uthenera na revas, vir sulahn'nehn, vir dirthera,vir samahl la numin, vir lath sa'vunin.”_

> _  
> Elder your time is come, now I am filled with sorrow, weary eyes need resting, heart has become grey and slow, in waking sleep is freedom,we sing, rejoice, we tell the tale, we laugh and cry, we love one more day._

Seolta felt tears prick his eyes.  He let them fall, clinging to Vivienne’s hand like a lifeline, and surrendered himself to the moment.

 

* * *

 

 

They did not leave immediately after it was over.

Thuleka stood there, watching Haven, for some time, as the others packed everything.  They would have to be out one more night, but that was all they could afford.  Skyhold needed them.  Still, there was time enough to allow for final goodbyes.

When it was time, Solas slowly approached their leader.  At his footsteps, she glanced back.  Fully clothed again, and warmed by healing spells, Thuleka nodded at him.  Her eyes turned back to Haven one last time.

“Dareth shiral,” She whispered, and then she turned and walked away.

At the campfire that night, Thuleka sat, playing with a piece of twine in her hands.

“Thank you,” She said to no one, and everyone.  “For coming with me.”

“Sure thing, your holiness,” Sera grinned at her. “Great time, wasn’t it?  Elfy magic shit, snowy bullshit, and Herald’s holy tits.”

“Sera!”  Though she blushed and sounded scandalized, Thuleka wasn’t quite as offended as she sounded.  Honestly, she was relieved.  The wholething was being treated like it was nothing, like everything was normal.  She needed a little normalcy.

“What, can you blame me for lookin?  They were right there!”  The group laughed.

“They were pretty nice,” Iron Bull grinned at her.  By the look on his face, he knew this was exactly what she needed, too; this levity, this lack of sanctity that would have her stand on a pedestal.  She needed her friends.

“Think I saw a nip, once.”

“Gods, really, do any of you think of anything but sex?”

“I was thinking how I could use a warm bath when we get back.”  Cullen muttered, face pink from the conversation.  A chorus of tired agreement rang out.

The conversation had its lulls and starts, drifted here and there from that point.  Thuleka wasn’t quite paying attention.  She was tired, but content to sit among the others, put at peace by the fact of their company and conversation.  They were happy.  They were hers.  No one but Seolta had ever been hers like this before.

_We will not abandon you._

The thought broke back Solas’s words, and she glanced his way.  He was standing off at the edge of camp, looking up to the stars.  Her eyesnarrowed.  Certainly, his words could have been in reference to the people surrounding her, to her team who had become her friends.

And yet…

_The Gods have not abandoned your people._

There was something about how he spoke.  How he was always on the outside of a group, no matter who it was, no matter whether he should have felt like kin to them.  Not mage, not elf, not any Thedosian seemed to claim him as kin.  He had no homeland.  The elf seemed to be rootless.  Theway he spoke, the way he looked at the world, it truly was as if his home were the fade and he was just a visitor here.

But what truly bothered her, what made her question, was that specific thought.  Your Gods.  Solas had never spoken about his faith, but he was noAndrastrian, she could tell.  And the way he spoke of the elven Gods, he clearly knew them in detail, enough to have been raised Dalish.  But he hadno vallasin.  He was from no Dalish clan she knew… she’d have seen him at the Gatherings.  But no city elf could know what he knew.

_The Gods._

Not our Gods.  They weren’t his, then.  He didn’t see himself as one of the People.  So then who was he?  Who were his people?  Yet… he hadn’tsaid “your gods”.  He hadn’t distanced himself entirely.  The Gods.  They exist, but he does not revere them.

Thuleka pulled her lip between her teeth.  Her gaze drifted to the fire, brow furrowed.  Nothing about this man made any sense.

Still… she resigned herself not to worry, for now.  Part of her didn’t want to bother it, wanted to leave whatever was hidden, hidden, because that was how she handled these things.  She kept quiet about them, so as to not cause trouble for others.

Solas had begun to show her that her manner of handling these troubles would not work forever.  Somehow, she felt Solas was going to be learning that lesson himself soon enough.


End file.
